


Sparring Partners

by RunEmJewelsFast



Category: Punch-Out!! (Video Games), Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Gen, Little Mac & Incineroar Friendship, Mac raises Incineroar, Punch-Out!! Lore, Slice of Life, other tags may be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunEmJewelsFast/pseuds/RunEmJewelsFast
Summary: “Little” Mac Ferrante had a fairly short career as a boxer; during said career, it is well known that he was accompanied often by his trainer, Doc Louis.But for most of his career, Doc wasn’t alone. A red and black cat could often be seen alongside the boxer during training sessions, often helping him prepare for future fights. Then, after one fight, the cat just disappeared. Mac never saw him again.A couple years later, Mac gets invited to a multiversal fighting tournament.One of the fighters is familiar to him.





	1. Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by the hammyart/dailyincineroar comic that was posted a few months ago and my love for Smash and Punch-Out in general.
> 
> I’ve wanted to write a few scenes from the comic for a while now and I’ve just wrapped up.
> 
> Note that I did take some creative liberty with Little Mac and the Punch-Out series, as neither is really given much backstory. Also, Mac can remain 17 years old for an infinite amount of fights in the Wii game. That makes no sense so I changed that. I also gave him a last name.
> 
> Anyways, happy reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you liked or disliked.

He’s training for his first title bout when he sees the little guy for the first time.

It’s a couple of days after he became the Minor Circuit’s #1 Contender, having steamrolled over Disco Kid with a first round TKO. The audience had come expecting a much closer fight; after all, he was a flyweight facing off against his first real heavyweight opponent. But Disco Kid hit slowly and he didn’t hit all that hard, so it wasn’t too hard for him to score his third straight knockout.

Doc had been ecstatic, as usual, harping on how Mac was really putting his time at the gym to good use, and how Mac was reacting just a little quicker than usual during the fight. Of course, there were still a few things he needed to work on.

“Alright, son,” Doc had said. “That was a great fight, and it puts you in position to take home your first title. But if you want to do that, you’ll have to go through King Hippo first. And of you want to do that, we’re going to need to work on your counters, since that’s how ol’ Hippo drops a lot of his fights.”

Doc had given him a day off before he was to return to their gym to resume his training. He’d slept that day away and now it was time for him to start throwing punches again.

His alarm went off at 6:00 in the morning, as usual. He got out of bed quickly, muscles still a bit sore from his last fight, and went through a few stretches before throwing on a tank top and sweatpants and leaving his bedroom to make himself a small breakfast.

The apartment he’d rented out was small; one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchen. It was far from fancy, but it was clean and it was what he had, though he probably could have afforded a slightly bigger apartment due to the winnings he got from his fights. The fact that the contract had been signed by one Jerome “Doc” Louis helped him get around the fact that he was only seventeen years old and still legally a minor.

Mac sighed as he looked out the window, only to see grey skies and a nasty storm. He’d have to throw on the pink sweatsuit and run, because there was no way Doc was coming to pick him up anytime soon.

A few minutes later, Mac was shoving the last of his supplies into a training bag. A couple of towels for the rain, a few water bottles, some energy bars (not to be confused with Doc’s chocolate bars, he’d learned his lesson about those), a change of clothes, and an umbrella, just to be safe. He grabbed the keys to his room, put on his shoes, threw the bag onto his back, walked downstairs and shoves the door to his apartment complex open.

He was greeted by the steady pitter-patter of rain and a little fog, as well as the sounds of an early New York morning. Luckily, his home was in one of the more quiet areas of  
the Bronx, and he knew the way to Doc’s gym by heart. So at exactly half past six, as per his usual routine, Mac starts to jog.

“One, two, one, two,” he grunts out, making sure to match the pace of his feet with his words. He keeps a steady rhythm as he runs, trying not to slip on the wet asphalt. After a while, his mind goes on autopilot as he jogs, occasionally pivoting on his foot to make a turn much like he’d pivot to throw a hook. This routine continues for about three miles before he spots the repurposed warehouse Doc turned into their gym. It’s still dark inside.

While he jogs, Mac checks the watch Doc gave him a while back. 6:47, it reads. He’s a few minutes earlier than usual for some reason. Doc always unlocks the warehouse at exactly seven.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait until then,” Mac says quietly, swinging his arms back and forth in the rain. He can’t quite tell why, but something about today just feels a little different, and it’s not just what he’s training for.

His thoughts are cut off by a quiet, high-pitched noise from around the corner of the gym. He perks his head up and stops his stretching in favor of satisfying his curiosity. So he walks over and peeks his head around the corner of the gym.

He sees a small cat, cuddled up into a ball next to the edge of the warehouse. Its black and red fur glistens thanks to the rain, but Mac can tell that the little guy is in trouble. The cat looks underfed, malnourished even, and it’s shivering because the cold rain isn’t helping matters very much. It lets out a troubled meow and Mac knows that it might die soon if no one tries to help it.

Quickly, he unzips the training bag and whips out the umbrella, holding it out over the cat’s body. The poor thing uncurls itself slowly, confused at why the rain would just stop suddenly. It come out of its ball and glances around to see Mac staring at him with worry, barely making out his face through the pink jumpsuit.

Their eyes make contact for a moment and Mac tries to make himself seem as friendly as possible, because he doesn’t want to scare off the cat. Slowly, he lowers the umbrella to the ground, leaning it against the warehouse. The cat follows him, making sure to stay under the umbrella so the rain stops pelting its fur. Mac, breaking eye contact, reaches into his bag for one of those energy bars he packed earlier. He fumbles with the wrapper for a moment before he tears it off.

He squats down again and grabs the umbrella, and the cat, looking away, meows sadly. It turns around to see the young boxer holding some sort of food out to him.

“Here,” Mac whispers, “you need to eat something.” The cat eyes him warily for a moment and hesitates before he decides to walk forward and starts nibbling on it.

The energy bar isn’t very big, but the cat is tiny, so it takes him a while to finish it. But eventually, the cat eats the whole thing. The boxer and the cat make eye contact once again, and Mac wonders how the cat will respond when the little guy tilts his head.

They just sit there in the rain for a minute of two before the cat, now a little less drenched, shakes the water off of its black and red fur and quietly walks closer to Mac. Mac remains still, deciding to wait out the situation.

Then the cat does something that shocks him. It starts nuzzling Mac’s leg with it’s head and it purrs.

Already, the cat seems to have latched onto him. “Oh, little guy. How long has it been since someone’s shown you kindness?” Mac asks quietly, running a hand through the cat’s somewhat wet fur. The cat stops purring and looks up at him, and Mac quietly notes that it’s the first time he’s seen something resembling a smile on the cat’s face.

The rumble of a car’s engine breaks up the moment between them, and Mac whips his head around. He immediately recognizes the sound of Doc’s ride. The cat with him flinches, but Mac runs his hand through its fur again and that calms him down.

“It’s okay,” he says soothingly, and the cat purrs, content again. When Mac starts to walk towards the gym’s entrance again, it follows him.

Mac should probably be worried about taking in a stray cat randomly, but for some reason, he’s perfectly okay with it. He’s more worried about its safety than the potential repercussions. He waves his hand at the cat and motions for him to follow, and it scurries to keep itself close to him.

“Come on, little guy,” Mac says. “Let’s get you inside.”

Instead of training for the first hour or so, Mac spends his time taking care of the stray. When it came in with him, the cat was cold, dirty and starving. Much, to Mac’s surprise, when the rain stops and Mac has finish taking care of the cat, it decides to leave. It already looks just a little bit stronger.

Mac quickly forgets about the encounter, however. He’s got a fight to prepare for, and a championship is on the line.

—————

The title fight itself is brutal. Late in the first round after he tries to counter a left hook a moment too late. He can feel the impact of Hippo’s fist on his jaw, and his head and body snap back with the force of the blow. But when he gets up, he retaliates. He takes the offensive, crazily, breaking through the bigger man’s (Thing? Fighter? Mac has no clue just what King Hippo is supposed to be) guard. When Hippo pulls both his fists back in an attempt to crush the smaller fighter, Mac counters at just the right time, knocking the crown right off the massive fighter’s head.

Mac has all the momentum at the start of the second round and Hippo knows this. When Hippo swings a fist at him in desperation, he dodges to the side and unloads a powerful combo with the intent to end the fight. The finishing blow lands squarely on Hippo’s massive gut and sends the big man stumbling backwards, over the ring ropes and into the crowd. The referee has no choice but to signal for the bell, declaring a knockout victory and a new champion.

Then Mac’s running around the ring, belt in hand, screaming, laughing and rejoicing like the teenage boy he is because he won the Minor Circuit belt and he can’t believe it.  
Then Doc’s making his way into the ring, a joyful smile on his face, and Doc just picks him up and throws him onto his shoulder, and Mac hoists the belt over his head so he can show the world that he is a champ.

Despite his size, he’s here to stay. He’ll be punching way above his weight and facing off against stronger competition soon.

When they get back to the gym hours later, belt in tow, Mac and Doc are still in high spirits, despite the bruises Mac sports on his chin. Mac’s laughing and still on his adrenaline high as Doc does most of the talking.

“...And that’s what I keep telling you, Mac,” Doc rambles on, reminiscing about something from his glory days. Mac’s probably heard it a dozen times before, but he lets his trainer keep talking. “You get the sweet taste of victory from training...”

“...Not from chocolate, Doc, I know,” Mac finishes the statement as Doc pulls his car into the parking lot right outside the gym. “That’s what you told me before I knocked your lights out before one of our sparring matches,” Mac continues, chuckling knowingly. Doc gasps in mock offense before his response.

“Hey! I was still teaching you the ropes back then,” Doc says melodramatically. “Who else do you know that would actually tell you to dodge their punches?”

“Disco Kid would say ‘here it comes’ before throwing one of his hooks,” Mac looks his trainer square in the eye and deadpans.

Doc opens his mouth to object before he pauses and reconsiders. “Fair enough, Mac baby,” he eventually concedes, still chuckling.

The two of them continue to talk and laugh as Doc unlocks the gym and they enter, title belt still in tow. They’re greeted with a slight burning smell and the sound of something getting scratched.

Doc’s first instinct is to panic and check for signs of a break-in, but Mac lingers with on eyebrow raised; while the trainer rushes around the gym looking for anything broken, the fighter glances around slowly, looking for something slightly out of place. He notices it in the form of a small, open window, a few feet above the ground. So Mac puts down the worn Minor Circuit belt and walks over to a spot just under said window, thinking that maybe he’ll be able to trace the path of something. He looks around for a few moments and then he spots it.

It’s the same cat he had encountered a few weeks before, pushing his paws up against one of the heavy bags. The bag is barely moving, but the cat is clearly putting a lot of effort into it. Every once in a while, it’ll jump up onto its hind legs and weakly push bag before dropping back down.

Mac finds the scene kind of funny and kind of cute, so he quietly finds Doc and shows him. It’s a large gym, so it takes a few minutes, but eventually, both trainer and student are back at the same spot in which Mac had been standing earlier, watching the little guy train and chuckling at it. Somehow, the cat had failed to notice either of them moving around, so engrossed in its training.

“Huh, seems like he’s trying to emulate you a bit, kid,” Doc laughed, watching the cat fling one of its fists at the bag. “He hits almost at hard, too.”

Doc barks out a laugh at that statement, and an annoyed Mac softly punches him in the shoulder. They keep watching the cat train for a few minutes before it starts to bore them a little, and Doc goes over to kick the little guy out. But before he does, the cat promptly stops, turns around to look up at Doc, and they both pause. After a few moments of eye contact, the cat exhales through its mouth, stunning both trainer and fighter alike. It’s not the fact that he exhaled that shocked them, though.

It’s the fact that, as the cat exhaled, fire came out of its mouth.

Doc yelped when a stray flame hit his jeans, causing a small part of them to light on fire. So he jumped around and violently swung his leg around, trying desperately to put out the flame. This stunned the cat and caused Mac to howl at in laughter at his trainer’s misfortune.

The cat, recognizing Mac from before, purred happily and ran over to him. This made the young boxer drop down to his knees and start running his hand through the cat black fur. Content with this, the cat curled up further still, happy to let Mac keep petting him. However, Doc eventually came over to break up the moment.

“Mac baby, since when could cats breath fire?” the older man asked while swatting the smoke on his jeans away. Even though the bottom of his pants had been singed by the weak flame, they turned out okay, and Doc wasn’t hurt. But it was now Mac’s turn to laugh at the look of sheer embarrassment on Doc’s face.  
“I don’t know, Doc,” Mac said calmly. “But I think we know where that burning smell earlier was coming from.”

The cat purred again, content to let the young boxer run a hand over the fur on its head. Then Doc popped in with a question. “So what are we gonna name him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mac said, raising his eyebrows again. As happy as he was to see the cat in slightly better shape, he had never even considered keeping him. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Doc chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. Am I kidding you, son? That little guy has practically attached himself to you. I don’t think he’s gonna want to leave anytime soon.”


	2. Development, Disappearance and Debut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac’s full time WVBA career ends and he learns to live without his companion. He also gets to participate in Smash 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, here I am, back with Chapter 2. This is where more of the Punch-Out canon divergence comes into play, as I spin in it to where the ending of the Wii game never really happens.
> 
> Anyways, to the few of you that returned, here y’all go. Enjoy.

Doc named the cat Jalapeño, and sure enough, he didn’t want to leave. So of course, they adopted the little guy, and Mac finds a couple of things to like about him.

He likes that Jalapeño has a very strong work ethic, and he finds that it pushes him to work harder whenever they train together. Somehow, he‘s a little more motivated when there are three parties involved and it’s not just him and Doc going through the motions. He envies Jalapeño’s reaction time, as it’s ludicrously quick; after only a couple of weeks, the cat can handle their double end bag nearly as well as he can, ducking and dancing around it like a four-legged featherweight.

He also likes it when they run together. Sometimes, instead of Mac chasing Doc while he rode his bike, he would run side by side with Jalapeño instead. But one thing Mac doesn’t like is when he tries to humiliate him on his afternoon runs by swooping in as a reddish-black blur as he’s in his final stretch of a solo run.

“Oh, come on!” The scream that comes from his throat is bad for his lung capacity, he knows, but he doesn’t care right now. Right now he just wants to catch up to his pesky cat, who decided he would show up and break into a sprint after Mac had entered the fifth mile of today’s run, leaving the teenage boxer in the dust. Doc Louis, on his bike as usual, laughed loudly at the angry expression on Mac’s face.

Mac could practically feel the smugness emanating from Jalapeño as the cat passed him on the sidewalk, before quickly darting to the side and away from Mac’s normal route. With a grunt, Mac starts pushing his legs to go faster in pursuit, frustration evident.

The frustration quickly turns to worry when he realizes he’s lost Jalapeño and he might not find him again.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” The words tear out of his throat and his head snaps back and forth, looking for his companion. Jalapeño is nowhere to be seen.

So faster he goes, leaving Doc behind. His legs keep pumping, his side starts to hurt and his face turns a slight shade of pink, but he keeps pushing still.

The seconds stretched into minutes and Mac eventually finds himself in Central Park, desperately trying to chase down a runaway Jalapeño. The fact that Central Park itself was absolutely massive was causing Mac to worry a little. Like a parent punishing their child, Doc would kill him if he found out that Mac had lost their cat.

He stops for a moment to compose himself before looking around and spotting a small strip of red under the shadow of one of the nearby trees. Without a word, he darts over to the tree in question and dives on top of Jalapeño, landing hard. If a passerby had walked by at that moment, they may have scratched their heads after seeing an up and coming boxer scolding a black and red cat.

The nervousness in Mac gives way to relief as he hugs the cat tightly. “Please don’t do that again!” Mac says vigorously, running his hand through Jalapeño’s fur.

The cat only exhales, a small puff of flame coming out of its nose.

Mac sighs, and lowers the volume a bit. “Seriously. You had me worried there, just swooping on in towards the end of my run like that. What if I had lost sight of you? What if I didn’t find you here? Also, what if someone saw your fire? I know we don’t think about that much but it is there.”

Jalapeño only meows in response.

“New York is a big city, Jalapeño.” Mac says, releasing his hold on the cat and moving to sit next to him instead. He can see just how much Jalapeño has grown since the King Hippo fight. Whereas he was once starving and emaciated, Jalapeño has bulked up and grown like a weed. His legs, once barely strong enough to support him, are now four pistons of power; Jalapeño seems coiled and ready to strike at any moment during Mac’s training sessions.

“You might not have found your way back to the warehouse, y’know. Even I struggle to find it from Central Park, and you’re just a stupid cat,” Mac giggles, while the cat just rolls his eyes and snorts again.

Those eyes, once nearly devoid of life, are filled with a fire Mac has only seen once or twice in his lifetime. They help Mac see the cat’s brash, playful nature just as much as these runs or his agility sessions with Jalapeño; the cat always seems to have this spark in its eyes, like it’s ready for a challenge to be had at any moment.

Mac’s blossomed too. In the time since he and Doc formally adopted Jalapeño, he’s battled his way up the WVBA’s ranks, taking the Major Circuit title from Don Flamenco (he was way too flamboyant and telegraphed way too much), and fought Super Macho Man for the World’s #1 Contender spot.

Macho was strong, no doubt. His fists were like a pair of sledgehammers and he could swing them around with reckless abandon. But he still couldn’t keep up with Mac’s speed and his obsession with showboating cost him; Mac had ducked under a clothesline and hit his Three-Star Punch to seal the deal with a split second left in the second round.

Actually, none of his opponents had made it to Round Three yet, not even Doc’s old archenemy Bald Bull. He supposed that, in part, Jalapeño had something to do with that. The cat had helped him train to become a champion, and Mac had helped Jalapeño go from the brink of death to a damn near apex predator. Doc had joked that they should start feeding him red meat.

And Mac felt a kinship with the cat that not even Doc could match. Doc was his father figure, no doubt; Mac was nothing without Jerome Louis. But it felt like not even Doc could relate to Mac the way Jalapeño could, even if he couldn’t talk.

So as the sun began to set upon Central Park, Mac squats down so he can see eye to eye with Jalapeño.

“I don’t want to lose you just yet, you know?”

—————

It’s been another successful title defense. Mac has easily dispatched of Great Tiger, despite all of his new magical shenanigans. He’s sitting at 20-0 now, and as he pulls into Doc’s gym, a smile on his face, he expects to see Jalapeño there to greet him.

Instead, when he enters, he’s greeted to a large “Thank You” hastily scratched on one of the walls, and immediately he knows.

“Jalapeño is gone,” he stuns himself with the news, and the happiness that he had deeply held vanished. It’s replaced by a small pit that rapidly forms in his stomach and quickly turns into a full blown hole. 

He sinks to his knees, dropping the belt. A light thump is heard as it hits the ground, but Mac simply doesn’t register it.

Fat tears silently start to flow out of his eyes, and try as he might, Mac just can’t wipe them away.

—————

He takes his first loss a few months later, in a decision against the man he’d taken the belt from, Mr. Sandman. The former champ’s uppercuts were just a bit too powerful for him to handle, and Sandman’s Berseker Rage lasted until the final bell, leaving Mac stuck in evasion mode. Neither fighter was able to finish the other off. In the end, the judges award the belt to the challenger, and Mac had to relinquish the red-and-gold strap.

Mac nods, hands the belt over with a quiet “Congratulations”, and leaves, stepping through the ring ropes without another word. The loss of Jalapeño distracts him still.

Even when he regains the belt from Sandman in the third fight of their legendary trilogy (his own decision victory), his decision is made.

“You sure about this? Three losses and you’ll call it quits?” His trainer asks him in the middle of a round of shadowboxing. He turns around, panting, eyes full of the sting of betrayal, and throws a punch right at Doc Louis’ face.

Doc doesn’t even flinch when the punch stops an inch away from his chin.

“There’s more to life than just boxing, Doc. I think it’s time that I experienced that for myself.”

The WVBA Commissioner desperately tries to keep one of his biggest draws. First he offers more money, then a lighter schedule, and finally fights against special competition in the hopes that Mac’s competitive spirit would flare up again. None of it is enough.

Even the special fight he had against Donkey Kong, in which Mac hits a lucky Star Punch to win, isn’t enough to make him stay.

He doesn’t even get to three losses. Heck, he doesn’t even lose once after the announcement. But at just 19 years of age, with Jalapeño still on his mind, “Little” Mac Ferrante relinquishes the WVBA World Circuit Championship of his own volition and decides take an extended hiatus from boxing so he can get his mind right.

—————

Just because he quit boxing doesn’t mean he quit fighting altogether, though. He just began taking on a different set of opponents.

That aforementioned Donkey Kong match, Mac later found out, was a qualifier for one of a series of multiversal fighting tournaments referred to as the Super Smash Brothers series. Since he won, he received an invitation to scuffle with dozens of fighters across multiple realities—for fun! The fighters included monsters, angels, deities and super-soldiers...

...And him. There he was, just a teenager from the Bronx who could throw a pretty good punch.

Still, Mac could hold his own. He won his debut match, a three-way battle against a robot known as Mega Man and some kind of dragon-turtle hybrid some of the contestants referred to as Bowser. And he could certainly hold his own against his opponents, even if he lost more than he won.

Ironically, the fact that he lost more often than he won was very good for his competitive spirit. As crazy as it sounded, he liked being out of his league sometimes. There were no stakes here, so he was free to just fight; there was no real seriousness, no pressure, no Sandman looming over him threatening to put him to sleep. Granted, the quote-unquote “King of Darkness” was also a member of the tournament, and he made even more violent threats, but Ganondorf seemed to respect his KO punch.

And then there were the people he really meshed well with. Ryu was an obvious one, of course: another brawler who liked a challenge and the adrenaline rush that a good fight would provide. They held frequent sparring matches with each other that often had third parties join in. Bounty hunter Samus Aran inturrupted their spars frequently after Mac hit her with a brutal uppercut that he’d later called his first ever Five-Star Punch. She seemed to think of him like a scrappy little cousin who never quit, and that had earned her respect. Then there was the other teenage little guy who hit above his weight; at five-foot-six and eighteen years of age, he could relate to Shulk despite the sheer difference between the lives they lived.

He’d gone and beaten Robin in a game of chess once, a couple weeks into his stay. The tactician had hounded him mercilessly for a rematch while another teenage fighter named Lucina had watched on. Mac had responded by introducing Robin to the concept of chess boxing, which alternated between three minutes of chess and three minutes of fighting until either a checkmate or a knockout was reached.

Robin was not very good at chess boxing and Mac went easy on him when they had a match. As expected, the boxer won a boxing match against a non-boxer. Robin decided that chess boxing probably wasn’t for him, but they became unlikely friends anyway.

He fit in pretty well with some of the other “silent warrior” types too, when need be. Ganondorf’s mortal enemy Link was a very good partner for doubles matches, and the Aura Pokémon Lucario had really been the one too break him out of his Jalapeño-induced slump with a pep talk ol’ Doc Louis would envy.

But that was a story for another time.

Eventually, the tournament came to an end, as all things do. Everyone said their goodbyes, and with the help of Master Hand they returned to their respective home universes.

A reinvigorated Little Mac decided to return to the WVBA ring as a part-time fighter, taking special exhibition matches but never fighting for the belt. The commissioner was happy to have him back, of course, but Mac no longer felt that his biggest obligation was to fight in a WVBA ring. Instead he spent most of his time going through college. Being a celebrity student and having classmates ask for autographs was weird.

He was also helping Doc open up a new, improved boxing gym in the heart of the Bronx, this one open to the public. Doc had used some of the money from Mac’s fighting days to transform their old warehouse from a spartan gym into a world-class, state of the art facility. He’d hired a couple strength and fitness coaches, but of course, he was the sole trainer when it came to technique, although he wanted Mac to hang around as an assistant. Of course Mac accepted. He owned Doc a great debt.

On the gym’s opening day, the former champ showed up, and to his surprise, so did the WVBA commissioner, who presented him with a perfect copy of the World Circuit title belt he used to hold. It was apparently a gift meant to thank him for providing three years of the best boxing matches the world had ever seen.

Mr. Sandman even made an appearance, belt on his shoulder, and publicly quashed the beef between them. He had rolled into the ring that Mac had been warming up in and extended a massive hand for Mac to shake. “The WVBA ain’t the same without you, Mac,” he’d said. “Glad to have you back fighting every once in a while.”

Mac gladly shook his hand and life went on. Mac moved on. Obviously his life was far from perfect (college tuition was a pain even with his fighting money), but for his the most part, he was happy.

Then he got invited back to the fifth Smash tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was Chapter 2. Jalapeño grew up and left Mac’s side and Mac began to develop a life that involved more things outside of boxing.
> 
> I know I made it so we Mac and Jalapeño aren’t side by side for much of the story. Well, all I can say is that Mac is the main character of the story. It’s about him more than anyone else.
> 
> I’m also considering writing a few short side stories to this; I’ve dropped a hint to one of them here and will drop a couple more in future chapters.
> 
> Anyways, that’s all for today, folks. Comment if you enjoyed it or if you didn’t (to tell me what I did wrong).
> 
> Have a great day!


	3. Qualifiers and Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac becomes the veteran as he takes part in a sanctioned qualifier for the fifth Smash Bros. tournament. After his fight, another fighter comes onto the scene, and Mac swears the universe is messing with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I did not expect my update of this to take so long. I already have the whole story finished, for heaven’s sake! But school, as always, has been a bit of a pain and I’m bombing a couple classes in a way I never have before.
> 
> Anyways, here’s the third chapter. This story’s about 12,000 words so there should only be two more after this. Enjoy, and leave a review if you liked it!

He’s asked by Master Hand to hold a qualifier this time around for Ryu’s friend Ken Masters and a second, unnamed competitor. It’s supposed to be a short, friendly match between the two known fighters, with the third squaring off against the winner. That doesn’t exactly make sense to him (the third fighter would have a huge advantage no matter who wins), but he’s willing to go along with it anyways.

Obviously boxing and street fighting have two different rule sets, so they settle on a compromise. He’s more willing to use a different set of ground rules thanks to being part of a Smash tournament already. So Master Hand decides to put the fight in a squared circle and use the rules Ken’s used to. Three five-minute rounds will be fought and if there’s no knockdown by the end of the round it’ll go to a judge, a familiar mustachioed man in a red hat.

Master Hand promises a huge pay day to both fighters no matter who wins if they can get enough attention on the fight. Of course, both of them are celebrity fighters, with Mac being a quintessential American underdog and Ken being a rich heartthrob (albeit a married one). All it takes is a couple of social media announcements and even casual fans are hooked on the prospect of a once in a lifetime megafight. 

Tickets to the fight sell out in hours, even before the undercard is announced. Pay-per-view buys skyrocket. And on the day of the fight tens of thousands of fans pack into a massive arena to watch a stacked card that they get to main event. The night goes by quickly and every fight is a spectacle, but people came to see the main event. 

The time comes and a ring announcer steps into the ring, clad in a classic black suit with a bow tie and holding a microphone in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a long night. We’ve had a couple of title fights across multiple promotions. Boxers, judokas, wrestlers, you name it, all have competed for gold and glory. But enough of that...”

He raises the mic just over his head and bellows. “Ladies and gentlemen, IT’S TIIIIIIIIIIME for the main event of the evening!”

The rowdy crowd cheers and hollers at the announcement and the announcer begins to explain the rules. “The following contest is a Smash Brothers qualifier, set for three falls!” He bellows. “Each fall will last five minutes and will be cut short if either fighter scores a fall by knockout or submission! If five minutes pass, a judge will decide the victor. The first fighter to win two falls wins the match and decides whether or not Ken Masters qualifies for the fifth Smash Brothers tournament!”

“So, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble...” he finishes, and the crowd roars in anticipation and approval.

“Introducing first, the veteran, the Bruiser from our very own Bronx, New York, weighing in at 147 pounds, give it up for ‘Little’ Mac Ferrante!”

Trumpets blare and pyrotechnics flare up as a montage of Mac’s previous fights begins to play. Then, he emerges from the fighter’s entrance and onto the ramp, clad in his pink jumpsuit with Doc Louis nowhere to be found. Using he ring steps, he walks up to the squared circle and steps through the ring ropes. From there he runs around the ring a couple of times before ripping off his jumpsuit to reveal his classic green gloves, green shorts and black tank top underneath.

He spins around the ring and fakes a couple punches before throwing one fist up high into the air. The crowd roars again in response, breaking into a massive chant as he walks to a corner and settles in.  
“Lit-tle Mac! Lit-tle Mac! Lit-tle Mac! Lit-tle Mac!” The crowd chants for him put a smile on his face momentarily before he remembers that he’s here for a fight. He steels his resolve and settles into the corner of his choice, facing away from the big screen. The announcer continues.

“And now, introducing the qualifier second, hailing from Los Angeles, California, weighing in at 183 pounds, please welcome ‘Crimson King’ Ken Masters!”

A heavy guitar intro hits as his opponent makes his way onto the ramp, wearing his own red gi, black belt and MMA gloves. He pauses on the ramp for a moment as the intro continues, and just as it finishes he begins throwing a series of kicks. Each kick is perfectly in time with a pair of fireworks that goes off behind him; it almost looks like he’s triggering them.

After that intro finishes, Ken walks down to the ring slowly, gesturing with his arms and hands the whole time. He forgoes the ring steps entirely in favor of jumping onto the apron of the ring and grabbing the top rope for leverage. Then he turns his back to the ring and holds both arms up, hands open as if gesturing to some higher power.

The crowd breaks into alternating chants, with one side of the crowd chanting “Let’s go, Masters” and the other half still chanting for Little Mac. Ken, still on the apron of the ring, is all smiles and arrogance, continuing his playing to the crowd to hype up the fight.

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t focused,” Mac thinks.

Ken uses the top rope to help vault himself into the ring, and his eyes lock up with Mac’s. The crowd finally falls silent as the referee for the match directs both fighters to the center of the ring.

“All right,” the ref says, “I know this sounds stereotypical, but I want a clean fight between you two. I want to see no low blows, no eye gouging, and no shots to the back of the head. If I do see any of those things, I will not hesitate to disqualify you and award a fall to your opponent. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Ken says, smirking. “Can we get started?”

The ref nods. “To your corners, both of you.” Mac and Ken both retreat, while the ref sternly pays attention to the both of them. Ken is still sneering, whilst Mac is expressionless. They have both entered into their zones, where their focus and confidence is boundless.

The ref turns to Mac and asks, “Are you ready?” Mac responds with a nod.

Then the ref does the same with Ken. He quickly puts one thumb up to signal an affirmative.  
The ref glances back and forth between them one last time before signaling to the timekeeper’s desk.

“Ring the bell!”

The bell rings three times. Mac touches gloves with Ken and the fight is on.

—————

The judge narrowly gives Ken the first round after he lands a series of spinning kicks (which Ken calls the Tatsumaki) right before the bell. It’s a controversial decision and portions of the crowd are unhappy, but the referee refuses to call the first round a draw. Mac angrily responds by punching Ken around the ring for just over four minutes, landing a Two-Star Punch to knock him over the top rope and out of the ring just after the one minute warning. If the judge won’t give him a round, he thinks, he’ll make it so it’s not up to the judge.

Both fighters are tied at one fall apiece. This leads us to the third round, a spectacular back and forth between two accomplished fighters.

Mac’s heart pounds in rhythm with his fists as he pushes Ken towards a neutral corner. Slowly but surely, Mac backs his opponent all the way into the padded corner, and he starts wailing away. He throws a left hook, then a right, and then an uppercut followed by three quick strikes. Something inside him tells him to finish the fight, so he pulls his fist back a little bit farther then usual.

It’s all Ken needs to counter with a nasty left cross that makes Mac go cross-eyed for a split second. The shot sends Mac staggering into the ropes and he grasps one with a glove, narrowly avoiding a knockdown that would end the fight. He shakes his head and pushes off the ropes to face his opponent, who elected to recover rather than push his advantage.

Ken openly taunts Mac, bringing his left hand out of his stance to motion Mac forward. Both of them know that their next exchange will almost certainly be their last.

“Bring it on!” Ken says, and both fighters rush forward to begin their final exchange. The timekeepers agree; they’ve struck the ring four times to signal that thirty seconds remain.

Ken makes the first move with a left roundhouse, and Mac rolls under it and throws an uppercut that fails to connect. Ken throws another roundhouse and gets the same result, only this time Mac moves forward and throws a quick one-two combo. The jab hits but the cross is blocked, and Ken quickly flings his leg upwards to create space between them. Mac quickly jumps forward to close the gap, his right fist already moving forward to attempt a Superman Punch. But Ken has moved away, behind him, and Mac’s fist hits the canvas, shaking the ring.

With Mac’s back to him, Ken attempts to power up a Hadoken, one of his signature moves. He holds it for slightly longer than he usually would before he releases it, making it a little stronger. The blue ki blast wastes no time moving towards the boxer, who, with wide eyes and a grimace, narrowly moves out of the way.

Both fighters charge towards each other again. Mac nails a right hook; Ken quickly counters with a kick to Mac’s side. Then, Ken scoots back towards the ropes.

Sensing an opportunity, Mac rushes forward to deliver a series of fast, straight shots. Fourteen punches are thrown in just under three seconds. Ken takes all the hits, letting himself get bounced around for a moment, before he holds a hand up and perfectly parries the last one.

Then, without warning, he lands a quick kick on Mac’s chest, pulls back, and smirks. It’s at this exact moment that Mac realizes he’d been baited into approaching.

Ken’s right leg swings forward once, then twice, then again. Suddenly they’re both in the air, a dozen feet above the ring, and Ken’s created a small tornado with his kicks. Mac takes a total of ten kicks to the chest before Ken’s leg lights aflame and he brings it forward for the finishing blow.

“Oh, shi—”

Before he can finish that thought, he’s sent careening out of the ring, over the entrance ramp and into the giant scoreboard as the bell rings. He can barely make out Ken pumping his fist and the ref calling for the bell as his eyesight begins to blur and the world begins to spin.

For the first time ever, Mac had been knocked out. His last thought before his vision fades to black is that he wouldn’t get see the second qualifier.

—————

“-it.”

He wakes up in a hospital bed. There are no heart monitors around him, and he’s still in his tank top and shorts, so he assumes that he’s in decent enough shape. Of course, he’s sore all over and his head hurts a little (hopefully he’s not concussed), but otherwise he seems fine. With a grunt, he hoists himself up into a sitting position, left hand on the railing of the bed, and looks around the room before staring, wide-eyed, at the bed next to him.

Ken Masters is lying in that bed, eyes wide open as he struggles to get int the same position that Mac himself was currently in. He’s got a heart monitor strapped to him and is wearing a hospital gown, but the most painful thing of all seems to be the bruises and burns along his limbs.

“Damn,” Mac openly gawked at Ken’s wounds. “What happened to you?”

Ken turned to make eye contact with Mac; he smiled and his eyes widened. “Oh, you’re awake. I’m sorry about that finish by the way. Didn’t expect to knock you into the TitanTron like that.”

“You’re dodging the question, Ken.”

“The same thing that happened to you, kid,” Ken says. “After I knocked you into the TitanTron, our third, mystery opponent tried to ambush me. You pushed me to the brink, Mac, so while I tried to hold out, I got crushed. He had this strange, pro wrestling style that threw me around the ring.”

“That doesn’t really explain the burns.”

“That’s the thing, Mac. This other competitor had this flaming belt around his waist. Sometimes when I’d hit him it’d spark, and his next attack would be so strong I’d get burned when I took the hit.”

“Well, what was this other competitor like?” Mac asks, shifting his weight to turn the rest of his body towards Ken.

Ken points to a monitor in the corner of the room. “I was told that thing has some of the previous fights on it. If you can walk, you should see for yourself.”

So Mac slowly moves his legs off the bed and onto the floor, using his arms to push himself into a standing position. The tile flooring is good and cold under his bare feet, but his the soreness of his legs offsets that small pleasure with serious pain. He winces as he gets his legs to move, but they only feel very sore; it seems he can walk just fine.

Mac grunts as he grabs the remote and turns the screen on. “I expected worse from my injuries, to be honest.”

Ken spoke up. “Well, that’s because you had only one world class martial artist beat the snot out of you. I took a beating from a all-time great boxer and a fiery pro wrestler cat man.”

Mac raises one eyebrow to look at Ken in the universal symbol for confusion. “Excuse me? A cat man? Did I hear you properly?”

“Look at the screen, kid.”

Sure enough, Mac looks at the screen and gets his first real look at Ken’s other opponent. It’s a “cat man” alright, with a bulky, towering figure of a bodybuilder (He’s gotta be pushing six foot four) and the fur, head and tail of a standard housecat. He watches on as the newbie, dubbed “Incineroar”, throws Ken around the ring angrily, stopping to taunt and pose at the crowd when certain attacks connect. Sometimes when Ken gets his offense in, Incineroar’s belt (it’s flaming, alright) will spark, burning Ken and giving Incineroar’s fur a blazing tone. Eventually, Mac sees Incineroar hit his finisher and throw Ken around the ring before knocking him up into the air, only for the wrestler to plunge Ken back into the center of the ring as the bell sounds.

Mac turns the screen off after he’s had enough of the cat’s posing and taunting in celebration. A million thoughts run through his mind, but one of which happens to be the newcomer’s color scheme.

Red and Black.

Of course the universe kept toying with him like this, he thought angrily. A red and black cat that could scrap. What a freakin’ coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And there you have it. It’s a close call but Ken wins and Jalapeño finally debuts in full. I took a lot of inspiration from the trailer for Ken and Incineroar (the one that came out a year ago) but I needed to come up with a before and after for it. The end result is here.
> 
> Fun Fact: It’s wholly possible Punch-Out is a minor part of the Street Fighter universe, as it has been referenced by the boxers from the Street Fighter series.
> 
> Anyways, I’m gone for now. Chapter 4 should be up within a week.
> 
> Have a great day!


	4. Intro to Ultimate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The opening ceremony to the fifth Smash tournament happens and Jalapeño tries to bond with Mac again. Unfortunately, Mac doesn’t know it’s him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been waaaaaaaaay too long since I last updated this story. Between school, athletics and all my other commitments I just haven’t found that much time to work on this.
> 
> But here it is anyways. Enjoy!

“Welcome back to Smash Mansion, Little Mac. Fight well, and I hope you enjoy your stay. Would you like someone to get your bags for you?”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Master Hand. Point me to my room and I’ll get settled.”

The giant hand that talked was one of the weirder things that Mac had dealt with during his time at the fourth tournament. Master Hand was the overseer of the tournament. He kept the matches fair for the most part and made sure all the fighters were well accommodated, all while trying to keep his brother Crazy Hand in check.

At least Master Hand is polite, Mac mused to himself as the Hand, well, handed him some sort of card with the number 49 on it. The same number as last time.

“This is the key to your apartment. The mansion hasn’t changed much since your last appearance in the tournament, but we have made sure to add more rooms for the incoming fighters. Since you’re all arriving in order, your room will be in between Rosalina’s and Greninja’s, like last time. Now, off you go. The rest of the fighters will be arriving soon, and we’ll meet back at the front of the mansion for an overview in roughly four hours’ time.”

“Thanks, Master Hand.”

With his gloves off and bags in hand, he made his way through the Mansion, before eventually finding his way to apartment 49, where he’d stay for the duration of the tournament. He slides his key through the mechanical lock and shoves the door open when he hears the lock’s distinct click.

The apartment is the same as it was last time he found himself here. A large, comfy bedroom, with plenty of around for decorations. A full size kitchen with a stocked fridge, so he can cook for himself if he wants to (he’s glad there’s not too much junk in said fridge; he’s gonna have to eat well if he wants to perform). A small living room with a TV to watch the other matches, and a washer and dryer for his clothes.

Mac just walks past most of it in favor of dropping his bags onto the bed. It’s a lot nicer than the one he’s got in New York. Maybe if he would just kick his shoes off he can take a short nap. Traveling is tiring, after all.

Of course, what he expected to be about thirty minutes was actually closer to three hours. Mac woke up energetic, though, which was nice. With roughly forty five minutes before the designated meetup time for the fighters, Mac took his time preparing. Twenty minutes were spent in the shower letting the hot water soothe his sore muscles. Ten minutes more were spent combing his hair over and putting on an outfit: a black jacket over his blue tank top and black casual shorts. Cherry red hand wraps were firmly stretched around his hands, but he neglected his gloves (he wore other clothes too, you know). Then he set off for the common room.

Thank goodness Master Hand set a casual dress code for Smash Mansion; it meant he was dressed appropriately and on time, so he didn’t make a fool of himself. A bunch of tables had been spread around for the returning fighters to sit at, and roughly half of the seats seemed like they had been filled. Mac counted about three dozen fighters already seated. 

The villains naturally sat with each other, with the massive frames of Bowser, Ganondorf, Wario and Mewtwo making for an imposing quartet. On the other hand, Young Link, Kirby, and a pair of kids in parkas were petting some of the smaller Pokemon in a scene that made Mac’s heart soften.

Eventually, he spotted a few of the fighters he’d made ties with from the last tournament. Samus, in her Zero Suit, was holding Pikachu in her arms and chatting with Ryu, Ken, and an unfamiliar man with a goatee in a form fitting camouflage suit. While Ryu retained his usual gi, Ken spared no expenses (and maybe no fashion sense), opting for a maroon three piece suit that wasn’t exactly pleasing to the eye. Nearby, Robin, Lucina and Shulk were also at a table; Mac vaguely noted that it felt weird to see them without their swords. Eventually, Mac walked over to the latter table to sit down and do some catching up with other people his age.

“Ah, yes, another swordfighter to join our group,” Shulk joked, standing up from the table to shake Mac’s hand. “I gotta say, it’s a little weird to see you without your gloves on.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But for this occasion, I gotta be able to do things other than punching. You know, like holding a fork and knife or shaking someone’s hand like I just did yours.”

Shulk snorted and gestured towards their table. “Glad to see you’re still as blunt as ever, Mac. Come on over here, sit down with us and we’ll catch up for a while.”

Robin and Lucina were certainly glad to see him again, and the boxer and the swordfighters spent the next few minutes catching up on what had happened in their respective dimensions since the fourth tournament. Unfortunately, for the most part, Mac was out of his depth. While the other three fighters spoke a lot on politics, since Robin and Lucina helped regulate the nation of Ylisse and Shulk playing a big role in his home of Colony 9, Mac kind of just sat and listened, since the most he really did was help Doc run a business.

Thankfully, Master Hand intervened before things got too awkward, giving a short opening speech welcoming back all the returning fighters. 

“Good evening everyone, and welcome to our fifth annual Super Smash Brothers tournament. I hope you’ve all been able to settle in decently, considering some of you showed up later than others,” Master Hand said, somehow managing to glance at King Dedede despite the former’s lack of eyes.

This was where Mac zones out for a couple of minutes, just letting his thoughts run wild. A few strategies ran through his head as he tried to figure out when the matches would begin and who he would fight first. Maybe they’d match him up with a similar fighter, like Ryu or Captain Falcon. Or maybe he’d have to fight someone with a different style. Would he be fighting a swordfighter like one of the Links or a tablemate? Would he be fighting a projectile specialist like Mega Man or Samus? He hoped not. He hated fighting zoners.

Maybe he would have to fight the rest 

“Now, everyone in this room right now has fought in at least one of these tournament before,” Master Hand continued, “and so you know the general rules here. That’s why this will be your opportunity to meet some of this tournament’s newcomers here. So, without further ado, please welcome the newest additions to the Super Smash Brothers tournament roster.”

They came in a few at a time. First, a bunch of humanoid squid kids with paint-themed weaponry, known as the Inklings. Then, a set of villains, including a lumbering crocodile with a crown, an enormous purple dragon, a seemingly evil Samus, and a Piranha Plant (Mac saw Mario raise an eyebrow). After that, a set of regular fighters, including Ken, a pair of vampire hunters named Simon and Richter Belmont, a orange colored princess that seemed close to Peach, and a blue-haired swordfighter that Lucina admitted was her father. Lastly, Incineroar strode in, with a small anthropomorphic dog cheerfully waving to everyone. 

Chatter amongst the tables was quick to pick up, with the veterans questioning the looks of the newcomer and potential strategies. But Master Hand was quick to silence them all with a snap of his fingers. “And that’s all for now. At a currently unknown point, we will be joined by five additional fighters who unfortunately got belated invitations. But for now, feel free to talk and mingle amongst each other as you wish.”

For a while, everything goes well. The heroes speak with the heroes, the villains connive amongst each other, and the mostly neutral characters may speak with both. Mac spends a little time talking with everyone he’d made friends with and a few of the younger kids as well. Lucina introduces the new bluenette swordsman to him as Chrom. When he asks her how Chrom could be her father even though they’re similarly aged, she rubs the back of her neck and says it’s complicated.

Eventually, however, a fight breaks out, because of course a fight was going to break out when so many volatile fighters get shoved into one room. Samus, in her Zero Suit, was confronted by the giant purple dragon, and since they were apparently enemies, they have a hard time remaining civil with one another. Samus draws her weapon and the dragon, named Ridley, grabs Samus with his claws and throws her through a nearby table, which splinters upon impact. This leads to the goateed man coming to her defense and nailing Ridley with an axe kick. Of course, another newcomer is far from impressed either. King K. Roll whips out a massive double-handed cannon and fires a shot directly at Samus’ rescuer.

Mac himself isn’t exactly a paragon of justice, and in his opinion, it’s partially Samus’ fault. She drew her weapon and threatened Ridley, after all. So he instead decides to walk away and starts to head back towards his room. Unfortunately for him, Bowser seems to notice him walking off and tries to drag him back into the fight by charging at him.

Mac can hear the thunderous footsteps heading his way and he knows what’s coming, so he prepares to counterpunch, dropping his left arm down and centering himself. But before he can actually throw the punch, a red and black blur leaps in between him and Bowser. The Koopa King and the new figure quickly fall to the ground due to the momentum of the blur.

It’s Incineroar, and Mac can quickly tell that he is throwing his lot in with a fellow fighting champion. Incineroar does not hesitate in his actions. Mac can only watch as the wrestling Pokémon hits Bowser with a series of precise strikes to the face and upper body. Then, he slaps him hard across the chest, forcing him to stagger back

Bowser, who did not expect to be fighting someone closer to his size, lunges and desperately tries to grab Incineroar, but the wrestler is too quick. He ducks under the Koopa King, turns around and leaps at him, one knee extended. The flying knee connects and the wrestler quickly follows up by shoving him up next to one of the tables, turning him and grabbing him in a waistlock. The wrestler doesn’t even seem to care about the massive shell and the spikes sticking out of it, some of which are poking into his body.

He makes eye contact with Mac, who’s standing nearby. Mac somehow immediately knows what the wrestler wants to do, and runs over to where Incineroar has Bowser stuck. “You want me to hit him, right?” The boxer asks, and the Pokémon nods his head. So Mac gets in a few free hits on Bowser, slowly building his momentum. 

He throws a jab to test the waters. Bowser flinches and tries to fight back, but Incineroar simply tightens his grip and leaves Bowser unable to do so. So Mac’s next punch is a hard left, followed by an even harder right hook. Add a few body shots to warm up his fists a little and throw another left hook to be safe. Finally, when he’s ready, Mac cocks his right arm, sets his bodyweight, and releases, delivering a powerful Three-Star uppercut.

Mac can hear a quiet crunch the moment after his fist makes contact with Bowser’s chin, and he sees Bowser’s head rock back and forth for a split second. But then Incineroar is lifting Bowser over his head and back before he bridges his body and slams Bowser through another table in a picture-perfect German Suplex. The stress on his head is too much and Bowser blacks out.

As the Koopa King lays unconscious, Mac takes a moment to look at Incineroar, then to the rest of the fighting, then back to Incineroar. “Thanks for the save,” Mac says. “Now, do you wanna get out of here?”

Incineroar grunts out what he assumes to be a yes, and Mac just looks at all the ongoing commotion. It’s an absolute mess.

“I don’t see any reason to stay,” Mac says. Incineroar grunts in agreement and the two turn and walk away, leaving the rest of the fight behind.

—————

Originally, Mac had assumed their partnership to be a one time thing. But it seemed that Incineroar didn’t really think that way.

For the next few days, wherever the boxer went, the wrestler would follow. They fought often, and they had good chemistry together, even if their air game was certainly lacking. But eventually, Mac tired of constantly being followed. It was nice to have a companion, sure, but everyone needed to be alone every once in a while.

But the Heel Pokémon just didn’t seem to have a concept of personal space. Mac could look over his shoulder at any point and Incineroar would be there, breathing down his neck. The fact that he was essentially an anthropomorphic cat only served to make him a little more uncomfortable about it all. And when Incineroar began to nuzzle him one day, the boxer had decided that he’d reached his breaking point.

He’d shoved Incineroar off of him, showing a surprising amount of strength for someone his size. His accent came out as he spoke, betraying his fatigue. “Look, big guy. I don’t know why you’ve been following me around for these last few days. We’ve had a good partnership, I’m not gonna deny it. But all the physical stuff you’ve been doing is extremely uncomfortable. I really don’t like having you breathin’ down my neck most of the time. And what you did just there was over the line.”

He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you could leave me alone for a little while, I’d appreciate it, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there’s your 4th chapter. The final chapter should be up soon, with a modified version of the comic that inspired this work.
> 
> Until then, take care. Thanks for reading!


	5. Realizations and Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac finally figures out who Incineroar is, and they end on a happy note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here we are. The conclusion to the storyline...
> 
> ...I don’t really know what else to say, but enjoy!

Less than a half hour later he’s in one of the common rooms with Samus, Mac dressed is his usual tank top and shorts and Samus dressed in casual wear rather than her Zero Suit. Getting her to listen to his little plight seemed like a logical decision, since she was one of his closest friends in the tournament. Plus she handled Pokémon all the time, especially the resident Pikachu, so Mac figured it would be a good idea to talk to her. He just didn’t know what to do.

“...and he just won’t stop following me around, y’know?” Mac finished, watching Samus run her hand through one of Pikachu’s ears. The small, electric mouse was squeaking and nuzzling into Samus’ hand, clearly enjoying the contact. 

A soft smile splayed across the bounty hunter’s face as she listened to his story intently, clearly thinking about what to say next. Pikachu scampered up onto her shoulder, so she began to rub on its cheeks as she her head to look over at Mac.

“Well, there aren’t really a lot of reasons I can think of that would explain why Incineroar is being so affectionate with you. They usually don’t show much outward affection, preferring instead to keep their pride to themselves. Not to mention, you seem like you barely know him, but he acts like he’s known you for a long time. Maybe he thinks you’re his trainer.”

“He may think that, but I highly doubt that’s the case,” Mac spoke. “I never did train a Pokémon...”

—————

His thoughts are cut off by a quiet, high-pitched noise from around the corner of the gym. He perks his head up and stops his stretching in favor of satisfying his curiosity. So he walks over and peeks his head around the corner of the gym.

He sees a small cat, cuddled up into a ball next to the edge of the warehouse. Its black and red fur glistens thanks to the rain, but Mac can tell that the little guy is in trouble. The cat looks underfed, malnourished even, and it’s shivering because the cold rain isn’t helping matters very much. It lets out a troubled meow and Mac knows that it might die soon if no one tries to help it.

Quickly, he unzips the training bag and whips out the umbrella, holding it out over the cat’s body. The poor thing uncurls itself slowly, confused at why the rain would just stop suddenly. It come out of its ball and glances around to see Mac staring at him with worry.

—————

“...but then again, now that I think about it, Doc Louis and I did take care of a cat once upon a time, back when I was still boxing for the WVBA full-time.”

Samus flashed another smile at him. Pikachu squealed happily at her affection, so she began to rub his belly. She pressed on, “By any chance, what color was its fur?”

“Red and black...” he began to say, when the realization hit him.

—————

When he enters, he’s greeted to a large “Thank You” hastily scratched on one of the walls, and immediately he knows, and the happiness he had vanished.

A small pit forms in his stomach and he sinks to his knees, dropping the belt.

Tears silently start to flow out of his eyes, and try as he might, Mac just can’t wipe them away.

—————

“You’re not possibly suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, are you?”

Samus nods. “You’re familiar with the concept of Pokémon evolution, correct?” she asks, continuing before he gets a chance to respond. “Essentially, when a Pokémon gets to be strong enough, they take on a new form to reflect that strength. For example, the Pikachu here,” Samus gestured to the Mouse Pokémon, “actually evolved from a Pichu.”

And that was when it all made sense to Mac, who was still sitting on his couch in the common room, eyes and mouth wide open and a hand on his head in thought. He remembered how Jalapeño always wanted to train alongside him, how the cat would always follow him on runs and push smaller bags while he pummeled heavy ones. He remembered how the cat went from looking sickly to powerful overnight, and how suddenly he was keeping pace with Mac and pouncing on heavier bags during strength session with Doc. And most of all, he remembers how Jalapeño just left one random night without warning.

“It couldn’t be... could it?”

He hears a snap, shakes his head back and forth and looks up to see Samus and Pikachu staring at him knowingly. “Find him,” she says. “Now you know who he is.”

Mac rises to his feet and leaves the common room with a purpose.

A few minutes of walking later and Mac finds himself standing right outside of room number 69. Nice. “Incineroar” is written right below the room number as if nobody knew that he was its occupant. Mac stares at the door blankly, with millions of thoughts running through his head. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up but the theory that this Incineroar and Jalapeño are one and the same makes too much sense. 

He uses his knuckles to lightly smack the door three times. Then he takes one deep breath in, exhales and steps back.

The door opens and Incineroar lets out a harsh grunt, only to soften when he sees the boxer. 

Mac’s fists clench, his arms shake and his eyes water. “Is that you, Jalapeño?”  
The cat blinks a few times and tilts his head, his eyes never breaking contact with Mac’s own. Then, he nods his head and smiles, tears in his eyes as well.

Mac can’t take it anymore. The tears begin to spill and the waterworks get out on full display as he embraces Jalapeño in the hall, hoisting him into the air with unnatural strength for a man of his size. The wrestler returns the embrace as his smile widens, for Mac has finally recognized him.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” Mac sniffles after he releases his former training partner, establishing eye contact again. “Was it because you had turned into this? Did you think that I might be scared of you?” Incineroar only nods again and lets out an affirmative grunt. So Mac puts his hands on the shoulders of Jalapeño in an attempt at reassurance. It’s a little awkaward due to the height difference, but it helps.

“I would never show anything but love and respect for you, big guy. You were my training partner for a long, long time. I don’t think I would have trained so hard or fought so well if it wasn’t for you. The new form would be a little bit strange, I’ll admit it to you. But Doc and I would and will always, always accept you for who you are.”

It’s Jalapeño’s turn to cry a little, and he does. The fire type Pokémon’s tears well up and spill onto Mac’s shoulder as he hugs Mac again, with Mac swiftly returning the embrace. And for a little while the boxer and the wrestler just stand there, embracing each other and thinking of all the time it’d been since they’d last properly known each other, trained each other, fought with each other.

Soon, it would be time to rectify that. They were at a fighting tournament, after all. But for now the two just embraced, reunited after a long time away.

—— ——

They swept through the next round of doubles matches against all odds, winning five straight and running over the Belmonts to win the final round. Sure, Simon and Richter had a lot of projectiles and they could be very good at keeping their distance, but Mac knew how to play defensively. It seemed that the younger Richter Belmont was a little more prone to leaving himself open, so Mac capitalized often with strong one-two combos and powerful hooks. Eventually, Mac and Jalapeño were able to double team Simon and attack with impunity.

They got a nice trophy out of it and that was cool, but neither one of them really cared about the award. Eventually Mac decided he would just stash it away in his room and give it to Doc when he got back home. 

That bought up another issue: home. How could Mac possibly explain Jalapeño to his former trainer? “Oh, yeah, that cat we adopted a couple years ago actually ran away because he became anthropomorphic. Also, he’s really good at wrestling and can also control fire to a small degree.”

Somebody like Samus, Shulk or Link could deal with a world in which creatures that weren’t strictly human could walk and emote like people could. Hell, some of his opponents were non-human. But Mac’s reality was not so extraordinary. After all, he was just a prizefighter, and that was apparently enough to make him the most interesting inhabitant of his Earth.

(Well, there was his larger, more primal self, but he pretty much left that alone and let it out when it wanted, away from prying eyes. Guess he wasn’t totally different from some of the more extraordinary fighters in that respect.)

In any case, that was a problem that he would need to solve at some point. For now, he just sat on one of the big common room chairs, looked down at his legs and tried to figure out to solve a much more pressing problem.

Namely, the two hundred ten pounds of fur and muscle that are currently propped up onto the chair that he was currently sitting on.

Mac absently runs his hand back and forth over the head of his old/new best friend. Jalapeño’s weight presses down hard on the boxer’s thighs, which are nearly to the point of numbness. It’s been nearly twenty minutes and Mac hasn’t even moved an inch. Oh, he could if he wanted to, don’t get him wrong. It wasn’t like his legs were weak just because his air game was lacking; the only fighter that could outrun him was Sonic, for heaven’s sake! 

He heard a snort and looked up to see Snake holding a cigarette and staring at him in amusement. Honestly, Mac had never seen Snake with a natural smile on his face before, nor had he ever heard the man laugh. His smile seemed surprisingly natural on him. 

“Well, looks like you’ve found yourself in a rather compromising position,” Snake rasped, letting out a breath that could maybe be taken as a chuckle if Mac squinted.

“Yeah, what about it?” Mac asked.

“It’s nothing. Everybody’s got a bit of downtime right now since that last set of doubles matches wrapped up. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks. I didn’t see you compete.”

“I wasn’t really interested, to be honest with you. Besides, most of my weaponry doesn’t exactly mesh well with the rest of the fighters around here. So who was I going to partner with? One of the Inklings? Ludicrous.”

“I don’t know about that, Snake. You do seem to be taking up the role of mentors to those little guys, after all.”

Snake grunted and took a drag of his cigarette. “Little is right. None of them even seem to be five feet tall. And speaking of, for a guy with ‘Little’ in his name, you’re really not all that small. What’s up with that?”

“It’s relative. Probably because I was usually fighting guys that had like half a foot on me.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I’m gonna go.”

Mac laughed. “What, got eight kids to look after?” He said, putting the smile on Snake’s face again.

“Sure, kiddo, think whatever you want. If I got eight kids to tend to, then you’ve got one big ass lap cat to take care of.” 

“See you later, Snake.”

Snake said nothing as he left, leaving Mac and Jalapeño alone again. Mac’s legs had fully gone numb by this point, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He was perfectly fine sitting here for a little longer.

Slowly, he unfurled his arms from their previous position, taking care not to wake Jalapeño up. He shifted his hands so one began to stroke Incineroar’s chin, while the other reached over his body and began to give him a belly rub. Jalapeño subconsciously reacted to this, giving Mac just a little bit more room on the chair.

It turned out, Mac reflected, that both of them had changed a little. Mac wasn’t really fighting just to have a belt anymore, now he was fighting because he enjoyed it and it was how he had made a few new friends over the last few years. He was a little bigger too: a couple inches taller, a little more muscular, and in the best shape of his life.

He had been way too light in his WVBA days. That wasn’t healthy. But neither was his one track mind of focusing solely on boxing. He had to thank some of the people he’d met since his retirement; they had helped him out of a massive funk.

And then there was Jalapeño. He had also undergone a serious evolution, in more ways than one. Outside of his physical change, his confidence had almost turned into full-blown arrogance when fighting. Mac had seen him taunt after hitting big moves,a dm he had to admit that Jalapeño had charisma. He had also learned to fight for himself after he ran away; he didn’t really need Mac anymore. But he had chosen to stick by his side anyways. And of course, there was his physical change.

“You’ve gotten way bigger, little guy,” Mac said fondly as he continued to softly stroke Incineroar’s ears and his belly. Quietly, the big cat purred.

It seemed that they had both turned out pretty good after all. Now they were stronger than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that’s a wrap! This story is complete. I’m thinking about writing a couple other stories about characters from other franchises interacting in Smash (like Snake & the Inklings) but knowing my schedule that won’t happen. I also touched on Giga Mac but that also probably won’t happen.
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much to anyone who stuck through this story. Have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> So there’s the first chapter. Mac and Doc have taken the young Litten into their home. How he got there, I don’t know.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you liked it. The next chapter will be up in a few days.


End file.
